The Little Gift Shop on the Loch: A delightfully uplifting read for 2019!

‘Och, you know what people are like in a small place.’ Iris shook her head. ‘I think there’s been a bit of sniffing about what with the place lying empty, especially now that the village is busier.’

Lily chewed her lip, having difficulty associating the term busy with Carroch. But even so, she hated the idea of being the focus of speculation and it notched up another reason to sell up and leave again.

‘It’s your inheritance and only you can decide the right thing to do.’

Bizarrely, Lily had never viewed the shop and flat as her inheritance before, not even when Mr Bell formally read out the details of her mother’s will. To Lily, it was something that belonged to her mum, almost nothing to do with her. But of course, it was hers now and she had to deal with it. She also knew the only right thing to do was to sell. What use was it to her?

And as much as she was grateful and thankful to Iris she couldn’t afford any sort of emotional attachment. She was here to sort through her mother’s belongings and leave. A sense of goodbye, she needed that and then she could get back to Edinburgh and her life there.

Both women turned their heads at the sound of tapping on the shop door.

‘That’s them now,’ Iris announced. She opened the door to a small army of elderly ladies, the average age of which had to be eighty and all of them brandishing knitting needles.

‘Hello ladies, in you come.’ They trooped in regarding Lily with interest as Iris introduced them and explained Lily’s presence. Mary, a sweet-faced lady with powdered cheeks and wispy white hair clasped her hand, peering closely at her. ‘You’re very like your mother.’

Lily simply smiled at the comment she’d heard so many times before; her dark brown hair, full mouth and high cheekbones had always been strikingly similar to that of her mothers. Her vivid blue eyes she could only assume came from her father.

‘We all loved Patty, she was a lovely lady.’

‘Thank you,’ Lily croaked, a sudden lump forming in her throat.

‘She was so kind to us, letting us use this room. It’s such a pity the shop never opened, we were all very excited about it, you know, looking forward to seeing all the wonderful things she was going to sell.’

As the ladies began to settle themselves at the table, arranging cushions behind their backs Lily became aware that she was expected to sit with them. Fearing an interrogation was imminent, she quelled her instinct to run; besides, she really had nowhere to go. And so she took her place at the table, surrounded by faces sparkling with interest.

Tea was poured from a large brown teapot, beautifully moist lemon cake was unwrapped and cut into slices, and plates passed around. Lily’s stomach rumbled in hunger, a soggy train sandwich and a few crackers last night now a distant memory.

Lily didn’t normally do cake, choosing instead to power through the day on a super-green smoothie which supposedly enhanced mental performance. She shuddered thinking of it now as she popped the final bit of cake into her mouth, washing it down with a mouthful of tea.

And so with the clacking of needles and the voice of Ella Fitzgerald quietly serenading them in the background, Lily found herself sitting in a sea of kindness, watching withered and gnarled fingers weaving together shades of pinks, blues and greens.

Somehow Lily found herself spilling out the last few months of her life. She was tempted to gloss over it, say how she was taking a planned career break. But what was the point in lying? Redundancies happened and she was sure these ladies had all seen their share of heartache. The only part she didn’t reveal in full was how she’d fallen for James.

They listened, nodding and tutting sympathetically. They certainly saw her future in a more positive light than she had managed, the general consensus being that she was young and it would all work out. ‘Sounds like you’re burnt up, that happened to my niece,’ said one of them, patting her hand.

‘You mean burnt out,’ tutted Mary.

Some of the ladies remembered the famous Bremners department store from years ago and Lily was enthralled by their memories as they told her apparently it was the place to buy a handbag or to be seen shopping on a Saturday. Much to Lily’s delight one of the ladies had worked there, explaining how they only employed refined young ladies considered to be of good breeding. Lily listened, fascinated. Comforted by their presence and kindness, she was disappointed when Iris announced their lift had been arranged and it was time for them to go.

Cardigans were pulled back on, spectacles and bags collected and then Iris and Lily saw them to the door as they left with waves and cheery smiles. ‘See you next week,’ they chorused.

Lily turned to Iris looking alarmed. She didn’t want to think about next week and what would happen to the knitting club.

‘Don’t worry about it just now,’ Iris calmed her. ‘You’ll likely still be here next week anyway?’

Lily supposed that was reasonable to assume but even so felt her heart plummet. She really hadn’t expected any of this.

Iris stayed for a while, and only left after checking that Lily didn’t want to come home with her. Everything suddenly felt very quiet. Lily drew in a deep breath, determined not to give into the sudden sadness that enveloped her. At that moment she’d give almost anything to sit and have a conversation with mother, the way she’d just done with those women. Her head felt as if it could explode with a thousand questions she had for her. Suddenly desperate to clear her mind, Lily decided she needed fresh air.

She ran back upstairs and studied her reflection in the mirror. The ladies from the knitting club had all looked so colourful and lively. Lily on the other hand was dismayed at how pale and tired she looked, only a scattering of freckles saving her from looking a total wash-out. Hastily she applied some tinted moisturiser, ran a brush through her hair and headed out.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_fb112f76-a9d4-5230-ab52-e6aaec096eea)

In her memory, for some reason Carroch was always dull and muted, absent of any colour. But strolling along the main street now Lily could see tourists milling about, cyclists and hillwalkers with rucksacks hitched to their backs. Everything looked lively and vibrant and she realised the village of her recollections was very different to how it looked today.

Whitewashed cottages with gardens in full bloom adorned the shoreline and wooden benches were dotted along the banks of the loch. Everywhere she looked, flowers burst from window boxes and planters, clusters of pink petunias and tiny white flowers spilling over the rim of hanging baskets.

She passed a bakery, its window crammed with sugary shortbread, plump fruit scones and warm pastries. The pub looked newly painted, its chalkboard menu boasting fresh seafood and vegetarian options and Lily was also surprised to see an art gallery displaying a range of prints and colourful landscapes by local artists.

Only now did it occur to her the impact of having an empty shop in the village. She hadn’t given it much thought – if anything she had thought it might be difficult to sell a little shop in a remote sleepy village. But putting together Iris’s earlier comment with what she could see now, perhaps that wouldn’t be the case at all. At least knowing the shop would sell easily was one less thing to worry about.

As Lily left the main hub behind and approached the loch, memories of their holidays tumbled into her mind. She swallowed deeply, taken back to another time. A time of dipping toes into freezing water, of scrabbling over rocks and taking turns with the other kids for the single swing and rickety slide in the caravan park. And the most special times – now the most poignant to remember – when Patty used to take Lily down to the loch to watch the sunset. They’d sit huddled together and for those precious few moments Patty seemed at peace with herself and the world.

Lily had been a teenager the last time she’d been here, her head full of plans to go to university. Her future was laid out before her, somehow golden and full of hope. Now, she wasn’t so sure about things, a feeling that something intangible was escaping her.

Lily continued to walk, passing under a canopy of Birch trees where mosses and lichens clung to the trunks and carpeted the roots, making the earth damp beneath her feet. Bluebells and primroses lined a rough path which sloped downwards and then meandered along the shoreline. Now Lily was able to see the loch in all its glory, she let out a small gasp. The nine-mile stretch of sea water, surrounded by mountains and thick woodland, shimmered in the sunlight and looked breathtakingly beautiful.

Recalling a walk she used to make with her mum, she decided to see if she could retrace their steps and headed towards the north end of the loch, following a path through the trees and over a boardwalk bridge where she could see glimpses of the river. Her walks to and from work every day meant she wasn’t totally unfit but even so she had to stop a couple of times to catch her breath. Finally, she was able to stand for a few moments, the reward for her aching calf muscles and burgeoning blister now being able to see the enchanting waterfalls as the river made its way towards the loch.

Finding a secluded bay with a small gravelly beach she sat down to face the loch. She listened to the water gently lapping on the shore and lifted her face to the sun, breathing in deeply.

Iris’s words circled around in her head. Just be. But she didn’t have a clue how to do that. She knew how to keep busy. Although if you did want a place to sit back and forget the world, you wouldn’t find a better place than this, she conceded.

Lily stared out at the water, surrendering herself to its vastness and allowing herself to feel small and insignificant. A view like this made you think, made you reflect. And that’s what she’d been afraid of. The silence. No emails or no phones, no deadlines to meet.

All the usual parameters of her life had been removed and she suddenly felt adrift. Her mind flitted to what she’d normally be doing at this time; every minute of her day was usually planned and she thought longingly of her desk, letting out a sigh. She really wasn’t very good at not having a structure to her day or not knowing what she was going to be doing next week. Her mother’s nonchalant attitude to life and disregard for any sort of routine had left Lily with a need for security and routine, both of which her job had provided.

They had moved around a few times – a spell in Glasgow, a few months in Dundee, a year in Newcastle. Lily always sensed a restlessness from her mother as various jobs and relationships came and went, as if each time they moved she was looking for something.

When Lily left school, Patty had made it clear she wanted her daughter to live her own life and had encouraged her to spread her wings, probably imagining a rucksack and a one-way ticket. But Lily, studious and with an aptitude for maths, knew exactly what she wanted to do. To study accountancy and get a job. To be settled and secure and be able to provide for her and her mother in the future. Her whole life Lily had lived with a vague feeling something would come crashing down and when it did she wanted to be in a position to help her mum, at least financially.

Never interested in academic achievements, Patty had regarded her daughter with bemusement on hearing her plans. ‘Accountancy? Really?’

When Lily had started her course at Edinburgh University, her mother had gone abroad for a while, only returning to move back in with her parents where they lived in the small town of Dunbar in East Lothian. Patty had never had an easy relationship with her parents. Seen through their well-meaning, safe suburban eyes, their only daughter becoming a single mother was disappointing if not scandalous. But calling a truce on their uneasy relationship, Patty had moved in to help look after her father who was now in the wretched grip of dementia.

By this time Lily had started work at Bremners and was loving every minute of it, not least because of the security and sense of belonging it gave her, something she’d never experienced before.

Lily was rudely jolted back to the present by the realisation she was under attack from a swarm of midges. The slight breeze from earlier had disappeared, making her exposed arms a prime target. She furiously batted them away, aware it was time to move.

She stood up quickly, dusting down her jeans and began to retrace her steps, deciding to head in the direction of the jetty to see if she could find the old boating place she remembered.

As she drew closer, Lily was surprised to see it had been totally transformed. What had once been basically a wooden hut with a few small boats for hire was now a fully-fledged activity centre. A large single-storey timber-framed building stood with huge full-lengths windows at the front facing the loch. There was an information board and an enormous map of the loch in a glass display case surrounded by people with bikes or in walking gear planning their day.

A sign by the front door bearing the name Carroch Activity Centre listed the range of activities available including kayaking, canoeing and windsurfing. To one side there were now parking bays and a pretty café with table and chairs outside was bustling with people coming and going.

Lily’s step faltered as she recognised the prowling cat man from last night. Close to the water’s edge, he was working on a small upturned boat, engrossed in his task. Lily watched him, transfixed by the way the muscles on his arms and shoulders flexed as he moved. She narrowed her eyes, again a vague sense of familiarity tugging at her memory. And then in one heart-stopping moment, it came rushing back to her.

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